


your heart was glass, i dropped it

by wonderlandz



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: 2018 season, Angst, Character Study, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:01:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28504899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderlandz/pseuds/wonderlandz
Summary: it's laughable, really. daniel doesn’t need anyone. daniel is a big boy.
Relationships: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	your heart was glass, i dropped it

**Author's Note:**

> happy new year :)

daniel knows he has a problem.

not that kind of a problem. not, in fact, any kind of problem you might think of from looking at him. no. the kind of problem you keep hidden away so no one ever guesses. he knows a bit about those kinds of problems, he’s not exactly been stupid in his life so far.

daniel’s problem is about the fact that he’s confused, in his own opinion. max has spun him around so many times, dumped him in the shit so many times, played with his loyalty so many times, that it’s no wonder he’s got confused. he has to be confused, because he’s got it in his pretty little head that he’s in love with max. he doesn’t say it. he doesn't say much at all, except on track, and then he will let out his frustrations on the radio. he’s trying very hard to be kind, in fact.

you team up with a young passionate driver, and maybe daniel is a little too quick to smile when working with max, a little too reliant on flirting, because he knows flirting works with max, and then...

not that daniel feels sorry for himself, exactly, because he’s not a kid anymore; daniel is a big boy and if he wants to delude himself into thinking he needs max, that’s his own business. it's laughable, really. daniel doesn’t need anyone. daniel is a big boy.

the question he has to deal with now though isn’t anything more metaphysical than _i_ _have max in my lap. do i, or don’t i?_

“is this going to ruin our working relationship?” he asks. max a bit drunk. drunk enough to be pliant and more touchy than usual. is it taking advantage if they both want it and they’re capable of saying no if they decide they’ve changed their mind?

"only if you let it," max replies, and leans in closer, the black lining of his zipper sweater brushing daniel’s chest and the smell of wine heavy on his breath. “will you fuck me?”

daniel should say no, would say no, except for the look in max’s eyes that says _please_ despite the fact that his mouth never would. max gets jerked around like a puppet on a string by enough people. daniel flirts with him as easy as he breathes. and max feels powerful when he asks for sex. and max has asked for sex, and so daniel has two options - yes, or no. either will hurt them sooner or later.

it takes daniel a split second to decide to help him now, have him now, and hurt him later. he reaches up and pulls max down.

they're in max’s apartment, in the little living space that borders the bedroom. all the curtains are open, showing off the city skyline at night around them, neon and streetlights casting odd, wavy lines of colour through the glass. the only light in here is a small table lamp. sliding his hand into the back of max’s shorts, daniel decides he doesn’t care even if they wreck the place, because max is messy and loud and perfect in all his actions, and daniel wants him in the chair and over the back of the sofa and on the floor, up against the window where anyone could see them, in the shower… everything. because if he can, why shouldn't he?

max’s hands are slender and knowing, breezing through the zipper on daniel’s jeans with the same confidence he uses when he drives. it doesn’t take long before they've managed to wriggle daniel’s jeans off between them, and daniel decides he likes it like this- being half-naked with max still mostly dressed in his stupid beige shorts.

"what do you want?" max murmurs up against daniel’s collarbone. "it's your party."

max is right. it _is_ daniel's party. he's won in monaco after the victory was taken from him two years earlier. redemption day people have called it. max bites his neck and pulls him off from his own head.

"i want to fuck you," daniel says hotly, looking max in the eyes a little too hard, a little too sincere. "if you let me." daniel can feel max’s fingers already running up the back of his naked thigh, both of them slumped together on the armchair so they touch everywhere from knees slotted in-between each other to where their collarbones collide.

daniel wants to fuck him? max will go along with that.

so they slide to the floor and max’s intention seems to be to rush daniel through it. he pushes his clothes off and rubs against daniel like his life depends on it. eventually there’s a finger, slicked up with the lube max has in his handbag because he’s always prepared, the blunt pressure of it inside him makes max grit his teeth; two fingers make him whine. max shoves up to get more when daniel finally thrusts the tip in, because you have to get past the part where it hurts (which is as much a life lesson as anything else), and tries to haul daniel in closer, fighting his body's resistance.

"fuck’s sake. relax, max" daniel growls, bracing himself over max’s insistent body. "you aren't gonna win.”

but max always wins. he wins by letting daniel have his way, because his way is a hell of a prize: daniel fucks him deep and hard and smooth and in all the right places. and max likes sex and he likes it any way it comes even if it's on daniel’s terms.

max starts to feel dishonest even as he feels his orgasm creeping up on him. a dishonest thief, who would have thought? he does his best not to think of it any more as he pushes back in time with daniel's thrusts. he comes with daniel’s hand on him and daniel buried in him and stuttering physically, pushing deep like he wants to be fixed there, forever tight inside him.

after having his fingers clenched tight and bruising in bracketing max’s ass, daniel decides to kiss the fingertip-shaped marks better, sarcastically, which leads to max spread out against the window, pushing the curtains apart and moaning as loud as he ever has as daniel eats him out with abandon, still not thinking. and after max has panted and shuddered himself out against the glass, one hand fisted in daniel’s curly hair, he drags him up and kisses him like he needs him to breathe, still oddly gently given what they’ve just done, how they’ve just been.

"thanks," daniel says.

"for what?" max asks, feigning a yawn and a shrug.

daniel raises his eyebrow and rolls his eyes. "i'm not an idiot," he says, instead of answering the question. "i know you don't feel the same way i do. i know this isn't the start of anything."

max sighs. so it's come to this. it would be a lot easier if daniel were oblivious or just … content to it being as it is. "daniel," he says, dragging his fingers through his own hair. "do you want to know what i think?"

"you're going to tell me anyway," daniel shrugs, starting to put his clothes back on. “i'd rather we left it at ‘thanks’, but you've always got to have the last word, don’t you?”

"i think you don’t actually feel the way you think you do," max says, ignoring daniel’s comment. he wanders back across the room to the chair, picking up his discarded clothes and getting back into them. he tosses daniel his shoes, removed long before they even started down the conversational road that led them here. "i think you're just –"

"just what? lonely?" daniel suggests, doing up the buttons of his jeans, shoe draped over one shoulder until he’s ready for it. "loneliness fueled by my terrible season? traumatised by christian?"

the look he gets from max as he does his belt doesn't give him anything. max shakes his head a little. "you act like it’s my fault.”

daniel’s fingers tangle in his shoelaces, then amongst the buttons of his jacket. "and you act like it isn't,” he does his jacket up now and smoothes his hair on the mirror, "like they don't prefer you over me."

"not my fault," max says, perhaps a little harshly. "not my fault i'm faster than you.”

"oh, max," daniel growls, suddenly a lot closer to max than max remembers. the proximity is threatening and almost arousing again at the same time. "you're gonna end up just like me.”

max ignores him and gestures at the lamp they managed to knock over, and the palm-prints on the window. "you're actually going to leave? like that's gonna change your feelings for…” he leaves it hanging, wondering what daniel will say. daniel doesn’t do anything for a few seconds, then walks away from max, leaving a space where his body heat was. as he walks, he keeps talking.

"yeah, and i've felt like this about you through all of these years, and…” he grabs his phone from where he’d left it by the door, and pauses, "one pity-fuck isn't going to change that."

when he leaves, he closes the door quietly behind him, which is more of a dramatic exit than a violent slam could have ever been. max is left standing there, wondering if anything could ever hurt daniel more than his own self.


End file.
